


2nd Session of the WSC Final 2017

by requiescat147



Category: Snooker RPF, selbertson - Fandom, snooker - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/requiescat147/pseuds/requiescat147
Summary: bear with me. it's half past one and proofreading has never been my best talent. ^^





	2nd Session of the WSC Final 2017

The final for the 2017 World Snooker Championship has gone underway and Mark went in there pushed by his incredible win against Ding Junhui. Invincible as he was, he didn’t believe John would give him hell during this match. Of course, he expected a fight, some tactical games, tough and long frames…but this. This wasn’t what he expected at all. He started great into the first session, only to lose it all and for some reason not being able to get a grip on himself. Sure, John didn’t start off too well either…but after three frames he was in on the game and potting outrageous balls. Being level at the midsession was one thing, leaving the session with being four frames behind was another. He felt tired and worn out after this session. He came back into his dressing room, frustrated, angry, upset. He simply sat down in front of the mirror and stared at himself. What had happened over night? Yesterday he was playing brilliant Snooker and today he could barely get the white to move back up to the baulk area?  
Arms wrapped around him from behind. He closed his eyes and let the touch happen. The person moved closed to him, pressing their body against his, resting their head upon his shoulder, keeping him tight in the hug. The familiar smell of his boyfriend’s hair and after shave reached Mark’s nose and he could feel himself relax a little. They sat there for a few minutes. Mark’s breathing became steadier and calmer.  
“I love you!” whispered Neil.  
Mark’s mouth twisted into a loving little smile. That sentence still sent a flood of warmth through his body. He let out a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. In the mirror, he could see that Neil still had his closed and gave his whole being into the tight hug. He felt such a great affection at this moment that he forgot for a moment about how terrible this first session went. Then his look dropped down to his cue that he had placed on the table in front of him. He sighed. Neil opened his eyes and followed his look.  
“You’re going to be fine! If anyone can fight back at any stage in the Crucible, in the final, it’s you!” he said in a low and calm tone. Mark looked up and in his eyes through the mirror.  
“kinda felt I could do it back then, you know. But right now…I really just wanna lie down and sleep. I am so tired!” Mark replied, sounding desperate.  
“Why don’t you do that? A quick power nap may be enough to get you through this session tonight!” he pointed at the couch in Mark’s dressing room “I’ll make sure, you won’t be interrupted, okay!”  
Mark nodded.  
“But I gotta practise long pots...missed so many today!” he protested a little  
“You can still do that later. Take a good nap now and you’ll feel much better! Getting to the table right now, won’t help you at all!”  
Mark nodded again. Neil was of course right.  
Neil let go of Mark slowly, who obviously didn’t want that to happen and leaned back on Neil’s chest.  
“I’d rather have you take the nap with me!”  
“I know. Me too! But you need a good time of rest now, sweetheart! I make sure no one gets in!”  
And with that Neil pressed a kiss on Marks cheek, got up and went towards the door.  
That nap did indeed help and Mark could focus for another 30 minutes at the practise table. The pause between the two sessions was rather short. He could feel the nervousness and tension creep back in then already. He was tense and didn’t feel too confident, but not as drained as before. With last encouraging words and a longing kiss, he went out into the Crucible. Breath-taking as it was to play there, he’d rather not be here at all at this very moment.  
Again, he took the first frame of the session with a nice high break. And again, after that what could go wrong, went wrong. Missed long pots, weak safeties, John punishing almost every mistake he made, pressuring him with some extreme safeties, repeatedly forcing him to make mistakes or leaving reds in front of pockets…it was a single nightmare. He desperately looked up to where Neil sat in his box. Of course, officially as his best friend on tour, in truth, his biggest support in the world and the only person he wanted to look at during those terrible moments of a match. Neil, never looking disappointed – stressed, yes very but not disappointed – still rooting for him no matter how the balls and splits and even his own game went against him. He gave him encouragement, strength, the will to fight on, to stick in there.  
The midsession came up and he was about to take a frame from John, making it 8:4 after missing several reds and finally getting over the line – somehow. Mark had no idea how he got there. He felt as miserable as he possibly could and stormed out of the arena. Into his dressing room, fighting tears of anger and frustration. He let out a deep scream as soon as he got there. It felt like the pressure and tension were not only crushing but suffocating him. His breathing was fast and uneven, almost hyperventilating. Leaning over his table, he heard the door open.  
“I heard you scream and got a little worried! Sweetheart, I hurried down as fast I could!” the soft voice ran down Mark’s body like balm on a wound.  
Neil rushed over, pulled him away from the table and into a strong hug. One hand pressing Mark against him, the other slowing stroking over the back of his.  
“breathe with me, Mark! In…and out…in…and out…in…and out”  
Painfully slow, his breathing steadied and Mark could let go some of the tension and concentrate on his boyfriend’s touch and voice. Neil kept whispering calming things into his ear. After about five minutes, Neil leaned back a bit, cupped Mark’s face into his hands and looked him deep into the eye.  
“There is no greater fighter out there then you! There is no better player out there than you! There is no one on the whole fucking tour that can outplay John Higgins in tactical games and allround game but you! There is only one person who can make that come back! And that person is you!” his voice was strong, full of belief, love and hope, but most importantly with truth.  
Neil leaned into a kiss and it was an extraordinary one in this situation. Gentle and loving, determined and focused, sweet and full of love, warmth and trust. Mark could feel himself relaxing into his boyfriend’s lips and tongue which skilfully graced his. Suddenly he felt wide awake, alert and somewhat ready to get out there and somehow reduce John’s lead by as many frames as he possibly can. Eventually the kiss ended and so did the midsession. Before he left the dressing room, Neil placed a strong kiss on his forehead and then his mouth  
“you got this, my love! You’ve got it all in you! And if you doubt it for a second, look up and I’ll be there!” Neil whispered.  
Five more frames to go. Mark felt ready. But his hopes and determination were slightly crushed by John taking the first two of them. And during those he potted and incredible four ball plant and two shots later a two ball plant off a loose red. He was on fire and Mark was a bit swept from his feet. But with that, he looked up to Neil and in his head, he heard him say “There is no one else but you!” and with that Mark took the last three frames in incredible style. Gaining confidence, getting his light step around the table back, feeling well and comfortable among the balls and on the table again. He kept looking up and he was always there, always watching, rooting for him, cheering him on, not once checking the phone, his eyes permanently on him and his next shot. He smiled and potted the last ball, raised his fist up to Neil with a grin and left the arena with a great feeling. (Apart from the camera following him to the dressing room. That shit was creepy.)


End file.
